Names
by Jicklet
Summary: A poem from 2Face's POV, about herself, Edward, and how Jobs sees them. I got #5 three days ago, and this came out of it. It's either free verse, or a plain rant with a lot of line breaks. (Spoilers for #5 and previous books!)


A/N: I won't add the usual 2Face's-opinion-not-mine disclaimer here, because that would be a lame excuse for me dissing Jobs. I'll   
admit, it's me, Jicklet, who was seriously annoyed with Jobs for not calling Edward by his chosen name. Maybe I even thought he was an   
escapist. But once I decided to write this from 2Face's POV, her harsh opinions were added to mine, till I didn't know what was Tamara   
and what was baby. ;;-) So I'll just say that my own opinion of Jobs is a lot like this, but somewhat different, and less harsh.  
  
  
  
We'd been two kids,  
Essie and Edward.  
But in five minutes,  
my face became melted flesh,  
and in five hundred years,  
his face became a part of the background.  
We've become two freaks,  
2Face and Chameleon.  
  
I had no choice but to change my name.  
SE and WaterBaby had become absurd names,  
like the name Miss Hwang  
for someone who's not a Jane,  
or the name Sebastian  
for a girl.  
SE and WaterBaby were names for the healthy girl I had been,  
but wasn't anymore.  
I know who I am,  
and I won't let myself be counted to any group  
I'm not part of.  
And I'm not part of any group,  
except for that of 2-faced freaks.  
  
And Edward was faced with the latest  
in a series of strange, horrifying things,  
but this one hit closer than anything before.  
And he couldn't break down, not then and there.  
I wouldn't be able to help him  
unless he kept his presence of mind.  
He had to deal with his appearance,  
somehow.  
I could have told him to just ignore it,  
but I knew you can't ignore your own skin.  
You can decide to accept it, though,  
to accept it as part of who you are.  
  
Edward could have decided against it,  
and then I might have had to flee alone,  
with no help,  
only with a crying six-year-old in my arms.  
But Edward decided for it.  
And Chameleon took a spear for me,  
he ran alongside me,  
he survived while I wasn't there for him.  
He grabbed the spear before I could push him to the ground,  
he helped me save his life.  
  
Jobs doesn't like the fact  
Edward is a chameleon,  
but even less does he like the fact  
Edward is the Chameleon.  
Through the wooden walls belowdecks,  
I can almost hear him yelling,  
"It's not your fault you changed,  
but it is your fault you changed your name!"  
Of course Jobs would be angry.  
He likes calling his brother Edward,  
likes seeing him as the same little kid he was when we left Earth,  
likes having his freaky face out of mind, out of sight.  
Chameleon is taking that chance away,  
forcing Jobs to deal with reality.  
No wonder Jobs would be angry.  
  
He thinks Chameleon is acting out,  
and if he gets no attention,  
he'll eventually stop it.  
2Face and Yago, with their civil war,  
are of course also acting out,  
the trick is, again, to pay no attention to them.  
Jobs doesn't like power-hungry politicians,  
he can't see that once there's one around,  
it takes another one to defeat him.  
But here's the thing:  
Jobs doesn't like freaks, either.  
  
Oh, it's not the same thing as with Yago,  
it's not as if Jobs hated us freaks.  
Jobs loves his brother very much,  
and I know Jobs has once liked and trusted me,  
or he wouldn't have trusted me with Chameleon.  
No, Jobs doesn't hate us freaks,  
he just hates the fact we are freaks.  
He doesn't want us gone,  
he just wants our abnormalities gone.  
I bet that every time he goes to sleep,  
he hopes he'll wake up to see Edward clearly against the background.  
  
My face doesn't bother Jobs quite so much,  
only as much as it bothers everyone else.  
I know he pities me for the right side of it,  
and wishes it were as pretty as the left side.  
And I bet he wishes Dr. Huerta were still around --  
sure, she was an obstetrician, not a surgeon,  
but still, perhaps she could take a few healthy skin cells,  
and take them to a lab,  
perhaps she could grow them into tissue,  
perhaps she could replace...  
Perhaps she could replace 2Face with Essie.  
  
Well, here's some news for you, Jobs.  
We have no doctor but T.R.,  
we have no lab,  
and we don't have my consent to change my face.  
I'm still 2Face.  
And your brother is still the Chameleon.  
You can call us Essie and Edward,  
but that won't change the facts. 


End file.
